


Legacy

by dcjuris



Series: Being Human [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Human Castiel, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, pre wincestiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 06:25:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dcjuris/pseuds/dcjuris
Summary: The boys take Castiel to a thrift store. (These works are not in any order at all, other than the way they come to me). (There really is a Mobridge, SD and a Thrift Store of Mobridge. I have no idea if there really is a book nook or not. It there isn't, there should be.)





	Legacy

As it turns out, telling Castiel not to stop his emotions was maybe not the smartest thing. Dean hates to admit that. No—he really, _really_ hates it. The ex-angel is basically a normal teenager on steroids, and Sam and Dean? They've been there. What's more, they've been there with a shitty support system. They’re trying to do better than their dad did. Trying to raise Castiel like Bobby tried to raise them. That said, if Castiel sails another mug full of cold coffee across the kitchen, he might just become an orphan.

Still, it's not all bad. His moods swing fast and hard, but when he's happy, he's practically delirious. And Dean can't say it's not fun to watch him discover things like Snapchat and remote control cars and—fuck you, Sam— _hummus_. Cas loves the grocery store, as long as they're still avoiding meat. It's month three of that, by the way. He loves toy stores and the kitchen store at the mall. What he loves most, though, are thrift stores.

Sam dutifully made a list of all the thrift stores in a roughly five hundred square mile radius, and they set out on a road trip to hit them all. So far, they've been to twelve. Cas nearly got them kicked out of the Salvation Army in the last town when he took umbrage to the "if there's no price, we can't sell it" rule. _It makes no sense. It's your store; it's your job to price things. Literally. It's literally your job. Put a price on it so I can buy it._ Sam slapped a twenty down on the counter— _This should be more than enough_ —and they hightailed it out of there with Cas clutching a stuffed bee and beaming at Sam like he'd just stopped another apocalypse.

Otherwise? It's been smooth sailing. And to be honest? Dean loves it. Yeah, they've racked up a strange assortment of crap in Baby's trunk—from "Sal", Cas' coconut person _hand made in Mexico, Dean!_ —to Sam's ragged copy of _The Encyclopedia of Serial Killers_  (he's got a fetish—it's a fucking _fetish_!) to a set of three Masahiro knives Dean dropped $75 on—but it's okay. In fact, it's great.

There's nothing Dean likes better than driving the open road in Baby, and no one he'd rather be with than his little brother and their ex-angel. Today, they're in a dinky town called Mobridge in South Dakota, at the Thrift Store of Mobridge. It's one of those joints with stuff on stuff on stuff. He hasn't seen Sam since the nerd spotted the "book nook" in the back corner. Dean pulls a red leather jacket down off a hanger. He's keeping an eye on Cas, watching the ex-angel stroll up and down the aisles. Occasionally something on a lower shelf will catch his attention and he'll bend down. Dean holds his breath each time until he sees that rumpled mop pop back up. Which hasn't happened yet.

Dean glances at his watch. Cas has been intrigued for a good ten minutes now. Time to investigate. He slings the jacket over his arm—yes, he's buying a red leather jacket—fuck stereotypes—and heads for the aisle where he last saw Cas.

Cas is kneeling on the floor, hunched over a small brown box.

Dean toes at his foot. "Whatcha got?"

His shoulders hitch, and he lets out a soft sob.

Son of a bitch. Dean looks up quickly and scans for Sam. He whistles and waves when Sam looks up. God bless his little brother—Sam literally drops everything and hurries over. Dean waits until Sam is beside him before trying again with Cas. "What's in the box, Cas?"

He doesn't respond, but he holds up a stack of old black and white photographs in a shaking hand. Faded, stern faces stare back from within the tattered edges. "Who were they?"

Dean blinks. How would he know? He glances at Sam, who shrugs. "I dunno, Cas."

The ex-angel looks up at them, tears pooling in his blue eyes. "Why are they here?"

Oh. Wow. Shit. Trust Cast to find a deeper meaning in a pile of crap. "I dunno."

"Didn't anyone love them? Didn't anyone want these? Were they significant to no one?"

Fuck.

Sam clears his throat. "Maybe…maybe the people who loved them are gone now, too."

Dean glares at him. "Dude? The fuck?"

"Dean. Sam. I'm mortal now."

"We noticed."

Cas surges to his feet, shaking the handful of photos at Dean. "You don't understand! I'm going to die! I won't outlive you anymore! I won't be here to make certain!"

"Make certain what?" Dean spots a store employee working her way toward them. They really need to hurry this up.

"I can't let you end up here! I can't let this happen!"

"Cas…" There's nothing he can say to that, really. Being a hunter is pretty much a thankless job. There's no Hunters' Hall of Fame.

"No, Dean. I can't! I can't! I can't!" His breath catches and he starts hyperventilating.

"Hey, hey, hey. C'mon. C'mon, Cas. Easy." Dean tries to pry the pictures out of his hand, but Cas won't give them up. He looks at Sam, raises his eyebrows in question.

Sam chews on his bottom lip, then nods. "Hey, Cas, why don't we buy the pictures? We'll take them home and figure out who they are."

"Dude, how?" Dean's not opposed to the idea, but he knows Cas isn't going to let it go, and there's no way they'll be able to identify all these people.

"I don't know. Facial recognition software?"

"On hundred year old dead guys?"

"Dean." Sam snags his fingers through his hair. He's just as at a loss as Dean is, but at least he has an idea. Dean's gotta give him that.

"Okay. Yeah. Yeah, let's do that. Okay, Cas? We'll take 'em home, look 'em up, and we'll frame 'em, and put 'em up on the walls with their names. Even when we're gone, the next Men of Letters group will know them. Okay?"

Cas shakes his head. "There are no other Men of Letters."

"We'll recruit."

"You _can't_ be forgotten Dean. You can't. You've both done so _much_. Sacrificed so _much_. You can't be forgotten. I was prepared to continue your legacy, but I can't now. Not like this. Dean—" His voice cracks around the word and he drags in a gulping breath.

"Hey, whoa. C'mon. Look at me." He takes Cas' empty hand and presses it over his own heart. "We're not gone yet, okay? We're not gone. We're right here."

"De—"

The choked off word is so small and scared and it's so much like Sam when he was little, crawling into Dean's bed after a nightmare. Dean pulls Cas close, guides Cas' head to his shoulder. He threads his fingers through Cas' hair with one hand and rubs his back with the other. He feels the fingers of Cas' empty hand claw into his shirt, holding tight. "Give Sam the pictures."

Cas hands them over at last, now clinging to Dean with both hands.

"Get the box too."

Sam nods and bends down to retrieve it. "There's two boxes."

"Get 'em both. Go get your books and here—grab this jacket."

Sam wiggles the jacket free and quirks a smile at it.

"You got enough cash?"

"I got it covered."

"Okay. We'll meet you outside."

"Wait." Cas lifts his head and points at a ceramic bee on the top shelf. "Can you get that, too?"

Sam grins. "Yeah, Cas, I can get that too."

"C'mon." Dean ushers Cas outside and over to the Impala.

"I'm sorry," Cas whispers.

"Don't be. It's okay. You're right. It sucks that those people ended up here. But Sam'll look 'em up, and we'll get it figured out."

"What if Sam can't find them?"

"Then we'll make shit up. Give 'em names and backstories. The whole nine. Okay?"

Cas nods and offers a small smile. "Okay. Thank you, Dean."

"You're welcome." He opens the back door. "Get in. Sam's coming."

He helps Sam stow their purchases—an almost bursting bag of books, two boxes of complete strangers, and one seriously awesome red jacket. He turns to head to the driver's side, but Sam stops him.

Sam tugs him close by his hips and Dean goes willingly, like a magnet. "I like the jacket."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm. Can't wait to see you in it." Sam leans down and brushes his lips against Dean's. "And nothing else."

Dean rocks up on his toes and turns his brother's flirt into a full on kiss.

Sam grins as they part and heads to his side of the car.

Dean whips out his phone and snaps a picture of the store. "Best. Store. Ever."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also a published author. If you like my writing style, check out my published works on Amazon by searching "DC Juris" - that's me. :-)


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